Quint Rauss [6]
In his desperate moment, a sudden piercing pain shot through Quint's leg.
A wolf's jaws clamped down hard, its **razor-sharp teeth sinking deep—**so deep it felt like they were crushing his bone.
Then, with raw power, the wolf jerked him violently.
Quint was airborne.
He flew several meters, his small body colliding hard against a tree.
CRACK!
The impact rattled his bones, and he barely managed to swallow back the blood rising in his throat.
Dazed, still sitting against the tree, he lifted his gaze.
The wolf that had thrown him now stood a few feet away, watching him.
It was the largest of the pack.
The Alpha.
The moment the other wolves tried to advance on Quint again, the Alpha let out a deep, commanding growl.
All movement ceased.
The pack froze in place.
The Alpha's eyes flicked toward the corpse of the wolf Quint had killed.
Then, it turned back to him.
A thick, suffocating killing intent filled the air.
Quint didn't wait.
Ignoring the pain in his leg, he forced himself to run.
Limping. Struggling.
It was pointless.
Less than five seconds later—
A weight crashed onto his back.
Quint hit the ground, chest-first.
He rolled.
It was his only chance.
Rolling onto his back, he **raised his arms—**barely managing to keep the wolf's snarling jaws away from his throat.
It worked.
But only for a moment.
The Alpha howled.
A signal.
The remaining six wolves surged forward.
They pounced on him again.
Quint was overwhelmed.
Then, a voice.
A voice inside his head.
"Just kill this wolf."
No other choice.
Quint obeyed.
His fists slammed into the wolf's throat, again and again—but it wasn't enough.
He could feel his strength failing.
One of his hands started to slip.
The wolf's fangs inched closer to his bare neck.
Out of the corner of his eye—
A stick.
Just a few inches away.
He stretched his fingers.
A wolf **lunged—**biting down on his outstretched hand.
Quint swung wildly, throwing the wolf off.
Another clamped onto his elbow.
Pain flared through his arm.
He punched the second wolf, forcing it to let go.
The stick.
It was just barely out of reach.
Another bite.
His leg.
Pain exploded up his spine.
He screamed—his body jerking uncontrollably.
That sudden movement pushed him just enough forward.
His fingers wrapped around the stick.
But—
The wolf's fangs had already sunk into his neck.
"AAARGH!!"
Adrenaline took over.
With every ounce of his remaining strength, he drove the stick into the wolf's throat.
Hard.
So hard that the sharp end **pierced through—**one side to the other.
The wolf's howl cut off.
Blood gushed from its mouth as it staggered back.
But Quint didn't stop.
He ripped the stick out—
And stabbed it in again.
Again.
And again.
His face was blank.
His body moved mechanically.
Only when the wolf stopped twitching did Quint finally let go.
He barely had time to react—
A sharp pull on his legs.
The other wolves had grabbed him again.
Without hesitation, he flung the lifeless wolf's body at them.
The pack scrambled backward.
For the first time, they hesitated.
Then—
They froze.
All of them.
Quint, still panting, followed their gaze.
They weren't looking at him anymore.
They were staring at the dead Alpha.
For a full thirty seconds, the pack did nothing.
Then, finally—
One wolf stepped forward and sniffed the body.
Its fur bristled.
Then—
A long, mournful howl pierced the night.
One by one—
The others joined in.
The forest echoed with the chilling, agonized cries of the wolves.
Quint stood motionless.
The sound sent goosebumps crawling down his skin.
He had heard wolves howl before.
But this wasn't the same.
This was different.
This wasn't a call to hunt.
This wasn't a signal to kill.
This was grief.
Mourning.
And then—just as suddenly as they had come—
They turned.
One by one, the wolves left.
Not running.
Not attacking.
They just walked away.
Tails low. Ears flat.
Even after the last wolf disappeared, Quint didn't move.
He couldn't.
It took a full minute before his body gave in.
His legs collapsed beneath him.
His back hit the ground.
His vision blurred.
The realization hit.
He was supposed to be dead.
He had just barely escaped.
He forced himself to move.
Ignoring his burning muscles, he crawled to the nearest tree.
Then, with what little strength he had left, he climbed.
His wounds throbbed.
Blood oozed from his leg, his arms, his neck.
But he had something.
Something that could save him.
Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out a tiny fabric pouch.
Inside—
Three capsules.
A gift from the girl who always followed him.
"What are these?" he had asked when she first gave them to him.
"Medicine," she had answered with a smile. "Each capsule can heal any wound—external or internal. Even crushed bones."
Quint had seen her heal before.
He had seen her save the boy he nearly killed.
Ever since then, he had kept the capsules with him.
Just in case.
Now—
He needed them.
Quint pulled one capsule out.
No water.
Didn't matter.
He swallowed it dry.
Almost immediately, he felt it working.
A piercing, itching sensation spread across his body.
His legs. His hands. His torn skin.
His body twitched violently.
His eyes clenched shut.
He bit his lower lip, trying to endure the agonizing process.
Even through the pain—
He knew.
He was going to survive.
-
Quint woke to the sound of his own stomach growling loudly.
His eyes snapped open.
Though the forest canopy still blocked most of the sunlight, he could sense it was morning.
Something felt different—the forest was more alive, the darkness of the night had faded into a soft, green-lit haze.
He instinctively checked his body.
The medicine worked.
The little girl's capsules were incredible.
His wounds—completely healed.
His muscles, though slightly sore, were full of energy.
The only thing left was hunger.
A crushing, unbearable hunger.
Quint jumped down from the tree, landing lightly on the ground.
Then, he froze.
His eyes locked onto the wolf's remains.
The Alpha he had killed last night—now reduced to nothing but bones and a skull.
A chill ran down his spine.
Had he not climbed the tree, his bones might have been lying beside the wolf's.
He shook the thought away.
Survival first.
Quint followed his own trail back to the spring.
It wasn't just water he needed—he also had to find his knife.
Without it, his survival chances dropped drastically.
Luck was on his side.
He found both his knife and his drinking bottle.
But—the bottle was ruined.
The wolf's fangs had punctured it, leaving multiple holes. Useless.
With no way to carry water, his journey would now have a major setback.
He would need to stop and find water often.
That also meant hunting would be inefficient—since he'd have to cook the meat instead of carrying it for later.
On the other hand, he still wasn't desperate enough to eat raw meat.
Not yet.
Quint foraged along his path, eating berries and fungi he recognized as safe.
His pace never slowed.
After surviving that hellish night, the rest of the journey felt almost too easy.
No predators.
No real dangers.
Had Heaven decided to pity him?
Quint could feel it.
The forest was thinning.
More sunlight shone through the canopy, signaling the edge was near.
Excitement bubbled inside him.
He was almost there.
He would see his master again.
But then—
A deep, guttural groan.
Quint stopped instantly.
His body tensed.
The groan came from over a mile away.
It echoed through the trees—pained, frustrated.
Then, a second groan.
A third.
A bear.
Likely a black bear.
And it was injured.
Quint hesitated.
Then, his feet moved on their own.
Five minutes later, Quint reached the source of the noise.
A black bear.
Large. Powerful.
But agitated.
It struggled violently, one of its hind legs trapped in a steel bear trap.
Quint moved slowly.
The bear saw him—groaned at him.
"Easy now," Quint said, his voice calm.
"I'm here to help. Do you want to be helped?"
The bear groaned again.
"Good."
Quint crouched down in front of the trap's jaws.
He placed his hands on both sides of the metal and pulled.
It was stiff.
Rusty.
But after a few tries—it snapped open.
The bear yanked its leg free immediately.
Then—
A rough tongue swiped across Quint's face.
The bear was licking him.
Grateful.
"You're good to go—"
"What are you doing, boy?"
The sudden voice cut him off.
Quint turned to see two men approaching.
Flannel shirts. Cargo pants.
Rifles on their shoulders.
Hunters.
The bear let out a low growl.
"What?? Don't you know it's hunting season?" one of the men scoffed.
The other scowled. "In this area, we're allowed to hunt bears."
Quint shrugged. "Sorry?"
"What the hell—"
The first man raised his rifle. Cocked it.
Pointed it straight at the bear.
"NO!"
Quint rushed forward, shielding the bear with his body.
A mistake.
He thought the hunter would hesitate.
He didn't.
BANG!
Pain ripped through his upper arm.
A graze.
Quint gritted his teeth.
The bear roared in fury.
It lunged, knocking the hunter flat on his back.
The second man cocked his rifle.
But—
Quint was faster.
He leaped.
His fist slammed into the man's jaw.
Despite his small size, the force sent the hunter crashing onto the ground.
Quint landed on his chest, pried the rifle from his hands, and punched him repeatedly.
The man went limp.
A gunshot.
The bear groaned in pain.
Quint snapped his head around.
The first hunter—
Still on the ground.
Still smiling.
His gun cocked again.
Aimed at the bear.
Quint didn't think.
He moved.
His knife plunged straight into the hunter's left eye.
The man screamed.
Quint yanked the blade out.
Then—stabbed him again.
His stomach.
Again.
And again.
Blood gushed.
The hunter choked on it.
When Quint was sure he was no longer a threat, he pulled the knife free.
His hands were dripping red.
But—he had followed the rule.
He wasn't ordered to kill.
So he didn't.
Quint rushed to the wounded bear.
The bullet had passed through, leaving two large holes.
He dug into his pocket.
Pulled out a capsule.
He opened it, pouring the healing powder into the bear's mouth.
The bear swallowed.
"Good boy," Quint murmured, patting its head.
After tending to his own wound, he urged the bear to leave.
They had to **go—**before the second hunter regained consciousness.
Hours later—
Quint finally saw the edge of the forest.
His master was waiting.
To his surprise, the man had actually set up a tent and campfire.
As Quint approached, his master—
Smiled.
Quint greeted him.
His master grinned.
"Welcome back, boy."
@@@@@ Author's Note @@@@@
Can't you guess which part of the last two chapters was the hardest to write ?? ^_~
Should I put + sign on the bloody scene ? Let me know in the comment :),
And.. please vote with power stone. Thank you